The ice—yes, the ice. It's melting. The ice in my cold, deplorable, self-hating, barely beating heart. I'm not even sure how it is melting, for there is no room for heat in there, it's very small, and the only character traits stored in those tear-rusted file drawers are things related to or of hardship and hate. I am not stupid though, I am anything but, and I know exactly what you're thinking. You're thinking that I should 'get some help if that really is the case, because that could be a problem.' Do you really think that with my issues I can just tell myself to be strong and lose all of my pride by waltzing right on down to a therapist? If you do, then you obviously have problems too because no-one is actually that helpful or encouraging. No one.
My mother tells me that I am a great person inside and that I care more about other people than I convince myself to believe. Parts of me cry out to be that person, but I can't be. I just know I can't. I've actually tried you know; It didn't work out so fantastic. I had made a friend named Brooke, we were friends for quite a while, almost a year actually. I'm not sure how she stayed my friend for such a long time (in my book it was rather time consuming) considering my—uh—hateful atmosphere? We became better and better of friends the longer we were in cahoots. However, there was a downfall; I cannot be a person that I am not for too long, or I will explode of over-exaggerated problems and feelings that I have been hiding inside of me for as long as I had started faking my personality. It had gone too far. I had started to hate myself and others again; I was growing back into my old skin. My evil twin that I love and adore.
I ended up ruining her high school years; I laugh at the scenario to this very day. The night before the first day of ninth grade, we had watched a movie marathon of all of the Star Wars films. She had showed me her first day outfit that she had planned out; She would have looked wondrous in it... If only I hadn't ruined it. Lying on her bed was a purple dress with braided detail running down the middle and back of the dress, and every seven braids lied a vintage-looking button that appeared as if were one hundred and seventy five years old. Next to the raiment were a pair of brown ankle boots with a bit of a heel. I've got to tell you, she needed it, I recall she was 5'1.
During the third movie, I informed Brooke that I was rushing to use the restroom, but really I was about to sabotage our friendship in a matter of five minutes. I rummaged through her desk drawers until my fingers finally rested upon a pair of orange scissors with the words "for fabric use only" jotted in sharpie across the stainless steel blade. I gather the tool in my cold hands and made my way to the bed reaching for the dress. I picked it up and flipped up the transparent cover in which revealed the dress slip. I opened the scissors and cut a large heart shape into the back of the slip. Sure enough, the next day she roamed the hallways with her undergarments visible enhanced by a purple hue. I haven't talked to her since, but she had always been one to talk with her eyes, and she sure did express some nasty things in the hallways at school.
School had never been a burden to me then, but when I review it in my head over and over again on repeat, It seems like a game, like a game that someone or something had planned to make my ice glazing melt and wash away with all of my sins. Ever since my father left my mother when he found out she was going to birth me, my mother had been forcing me into doing things that she thought would assist me in getting through the hardships of depression. In high school she pushed me extremely hard into this get-together for the freshmen of 2009, and that's what made me rethink my life, some days above the surface rummaging through my lighter side, and some days I felt I was swimming in a lake of let-downs.
I remember that event in 2009 like it was yesterday:
Beep. Beep. Beep. 7:00 AM. Beep. Beep. Beep. I quickly turned onto my back and raised my arm into the air and just held it there for a few seconds. If you held it there long enough, you could find the balance and you're arm would just stay there. I had loved to do that as a kid. My mother and I would lie on the floor of her bedroom and raise our right arm. The first one who's arm fell, lost and had to do the dishes. My arm had lost it's balance and swung to the right smacking my alarm clock, dragging me into reality and stopping the ongoing sounds exiting the unit's speakers. I sat up slowly, In fear of a headache from getting up too fast. I threw on some clothes that were taking a nap on my bedroom floor and raced down the stairs. I had never cared about breakfast, and I don't think I ever will, so like usual, I skipped it. My mom had packed my lunch in a brown paper bag that had my name scribbled across the front.
"Cam, I know that you don't enjoy being social and all but I feel like making some real friends could really help you. I know that thing with Brooke didn't really go as planned, but maybe you can open up and be yourself with someone. I suppose i'll just jump straight to the point," My mother paused, biting her lip nervously. "I signed you up for a program at your school. It's for freshmen who want to make friends before the new year. Today is only a half day, but i'm going to pick you up at 1:30 so after school gets out go to the library, for they will be meeting there."
"What? But mother—Is this really necessary?"
"Yes Cameron."
"You said this is for people who want to make friends."
"Yes, I did."
"But—I don't."
"I am your mother and you don't get to make the choices around here. You're going to attend and that's final. Oh, and don't even think about skipping today." My mother started to gain a louder tone of voice as she spoke.
"Fine. I better get going."
"Don't forget! The Library!" My mom walked me out the front door and the second I stepped outside I started running. I don't know why, but I did. I just ran. My bus stop was coming up on the right, and I wanted to speed right past it, but I wasn't so sure that was the right thing to do, so I slowed down. I was twenty-three minutes early, and the only one there, but I didn't care. I needed to get out of my house. I sat down on the concrete sidewalk and played with a piece of grass that was crammed into the gap between the two squares of cement. I started to peel the green skin-like top layer off converging it into an 'X' shape on the concrete. Struggling to stand up, I found my balance and placed my left foot onto the 'X' and twisted the sole of my shoe so that the once two parts of grass had become one thousand. After that I just kind of sat there. Staring at each house studying it. One house had a messed up paint job, they had used a different color to touch up mistakes.
Before I knew it the bus was there and come to find out I was the last stop. I stepped up the neon yellow striped steps onto the bus escorting me to hell. Surprisingly, it was pretty empty considering the size of my community. I scanned the bus to try and locate a perfect seat where no one would tell me to move, and no one would try to sit by me. there was an empty seat in the front behind the driver so I parked there. It sure did feel like the longest bus ride I had ever been on. Once we pulled up at hell's headquarters, the devil stepped onto our bus to welcome us.
"Hello students! My name is Jake, but you all will know me as Principle Warren." He had said that with a huge grin on his face, yet I found him quite intimidating. "I hope you all have a wonderful day!" We all trudged off the bus in a single file line. I don't think anyone wanted to be here. It was school after all. I made my way to the office to get my schedule.
"Hi, I'm Cameron Lake, I... uh need my schedule," I said like I was the shyest person on the planet.
"Here you go! Have a great day!" She handed me a paper with ten lines on it. Line one said I had Homeroom with Mrs. Catcher, the ninth grade english teacher for the more academically challenged kids.
